Heartbreak: The Jade West Edition
by Lovatic1966
Summary: I was fourteen the first time he broke my heart and it was like hellfire through my veins. Bade and Jori.


**So when people told me they wrote oneshots in one night I thought that was just next to impossible. I guess not, cause I did it too.**

**This starts out with a lot of Bade, but hear me out guys, Jori shows up nearing the end. Oneshot, peoples.**

Heartbreak isn't an easy feeling to explain, or deal with for that matter. It's not a physical wound that you can just bandage up and it will be gone a few days later. It's the kind of pain that you can't touch, but you can feel it in you. It rips at your chest cavity, forces tears into your eyes and it makes no difference to put your hand over your heart and pray it will stop. It's almost unreal how the things that we can't physically touch will bring us to our knees, make us beg for forgiveness, and sometimes make us pray for the worst.

But I'm Jade West, right?

The first time I felt heartbreak directly caused by a person I actually considered close to me was when I was fourteen. Beckett Oliver. He wasn't the "sexy" boy yet; back in middle school he was the "to die for" cute boy. And he was mine. He was mine because we accidently bumped each other on the way to lunch and I was the quiet, nice girl that never said anything and he was the new Canadian eye candy. Being a gentleman he ate lunch with me and we talked and we laughed. He was only a few months older than me and he was sweet and nice, and being the quiet girl I knew nothing of communication. I didn't bother distinguishing between a friend and something more. He was nice to me so I returned the favor. When he asked me out I said why not; I could _show _everyone he was mine and they couldn't take what I cared from me. I could show them that I actually had something to call my own.

Five months later he cheated on me.

The pain didn't really sink in until I shut myself in my room and looked again at the picture on my phone of Beck kissing a girl that probably didn't even know his name. Someone else had took the picture in the hallway and sent it to me, telling me it was something that I needed to know. And of course everyone wants to see someone that think the world of to twist that knife in your back. That was sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell. Beck was supposed to be _mine_; I put so much time into our relationship. Goddammit, I _worked _to make sure he knew that I cared. I cancelled things to spend time with him; I walked to his house at the most unholy hours of the day or night when he felt lonely. But I was tossed aside for someone that I didn't even know.

And of course it stung.

It burned like hellfire in my veins, in my blood, and it all went back to my heart. It went back and mutilated and scarred, damaged and severely wounded. It just _hurt _so much and I saw nothing I could do.

I made up my mind not to be nice anymore.

I started thinking of hurtful remarks to spit at everyone because I can possibly channel this flood of pain that makes me tense like I'm going to explode, freeze like I'm in the Ice Age. Beck's smile is gone, his laugh, his optimism. I'm sure Beck already knows that it's over; it should've gotten around by now. I can't control this burning that stops up my throat, steals the breath from the body and makes me cry myself to sleep. Crying is a goddamn _weakness_ and I can't be weak or naive or nice. Look what happened when I was. I have to be strong, because when you're strong, you're left alone.

Apparently Beck liked the new Jadelyn West more than the first.

When he tried to approach me for the first time after the sudden change I was forcing myself through I snapped at him and told him that my name was Jade, not some happy princess name, like _Jadelyn_. He smirked at me. He didn't pause or apologize, he smirked and said outright that he thought my "being a rebel" in his words, was sexy. If Beckett Oliver is one thing it's persistent. And more than anything I wanted him gone from my life again.

So we went out again.

But this time I wasn't going to follow in the shadows and blush when he tried to coo in my ear. I wasn't soft or tender with him anymore. I was rough and vicious and demanding. I strode next to him, held my head high and let everyone know that Jadelyn West was dead. Because Jadelyn West was _weak _and weaknesses got you hurt. But the burning wouldn't stop.

It didn't matter how many times his lips touched mine; that one image always stayed put in my head.

He kissed someone else.

He kissed someone else who probably impressed him with no more than a truckload of makeup and skimpy clothes. It made my hands clench into fists and tremble with fury. I couldn't fall for him again, not after what he did.

And so the fights began.

With my re-lit frustration I began picking out every single little thing I could find. He didn't tie his shoes fast enough, he took too long to walk across the parking lot, he spent too much time in class after the bell rang. The pain that comes with him starts to get addicting.

The line blurs to the point where it's nonexistent and when he's gone I still need my fix and that's where the scissor obsession starts.

So now at eighteen the walls of my bedroom are pierced with the loving metal. My girlfriend's tried to convince me to take at least a few down, but all of the blades that jut from my walls hold a "special" story for me, not that I tell her that though. She has a tendency to worry herself half to death sometimes. She's sweet, she's nice and a little bit naive sometimes, but the girl's got guts and I _like _that.

She's reminds me of myself sometimes and when I stroke her hair at night sometimes I wonder if she'll ever break. But she's optimistic, she's the sexy girl, she's _strong_ and that was what I used to lack. Our differing opinions make us butt heads a bit more often than most. This time she's left with a clenched jaw, tears in her eyes and shaking hands.

It hurts.

It hurts to see _her _like this; like I'm about to break her. I should fix what I've started and apologize. Saying you're sorry is a weakness though, isn't it? I should run out the door after her and beg for her forgiveness because really it's my fault that I feel like the claws of some vicious animal are tearing me from inside out.

I can feel the hellfire in my veins again.

I should tell her I _love _her, not argue over the things that I fought with Beck over.

But instead I sit in the dark of my room with the shades pulled down and my blood slowly snaking down my arm.

Because I'm Jade West, and nothing can touch me.

**Eh, I'm not too impressed with this one...what do you guys think? Did you notice how I compared Tori to baby Jade and Beck? :p**


End file.
